The Lotter Parody
by BB497
Summary: A parody I did on the short story "The Lottery."  I think it's funny :   Tell me what you think!


**(Insert extremely creative title here… something like "The Lottery" maybe?)**

The morning of October 7th was rainy and foggy, with the terrible weather of a terrible fall day; the flowers were dead as a doorknob, and the grass was a pukey shade of yellow. The people of the village began to gather in the city square, between the bar and the homeless shelter around four o'clock in the morning. Making it this early was another cruel way, enforced by the mayor, to make the villagers even more miserable than they already are.

The children assembled first, of course. So the mayor could see their "ugly little faces" as he said. There was no school today, since it was such a special day. You're probably wondering what day it is? Well, I'm not going to tell you, because I'm cool like that! Ha! Ha ha! The children tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous, yes, BOISTEROUS play. It didn't take long after that for the mayor to crack the whip on them for being "too noisy". Sally Goldwin, a manly looking, buff, 6 year old girl with a mustache had already collected several feathers. All the other boys she was recently playing football with, followed her example. They selected the finest and longest feathers they could find. Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix- the villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"—which is completely irrelevant to the story, but I told you anyway- eventually made a great pile of feathers in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys coming at them with machine guns. Sally Goldwin was in another corner holding an eagle, biting its neck, and trying to pluck its feathers. The girls stood aside, applying make-up, looking over their shoulders at the boys, winking and teasing. The very small children were put in dog kennels and kept to their mother's side. "Silence!" The mayor yelled. They all fell dead silent, some of them just fell dead, but only because the mayor had fired random pot shots at the crowd.

Soon the men began to gather, surveying their own children, speaking of woman and other manly things… like sandwiches, tractors and the latest "My Little Pony" episode. They stood together, away from the pile of feathers in the corner. The women, wearing faded house dresses, the mark of Buddha, and moccasins, came shortly after their husbands. Soon the women began to call to their children. And the children came only after being threatened.

And of course, in the front of the pack, was the entertainment. This year, the mayor had hired Bollywood dancers, because he thought the way they squatted when they danced was funny. He sat in his throne behind them and laughed his head off, occasionally choking on popcorn. One time he needed his assistant to give him the Heimlich, but the other times the problem was solved by drinking his vodka. Are you still wondering what day it is? Well, it's a lottery. I won't tell you what you win… orloose… if you get drawn… hint hint.

Soon, Mr. Winters came on the scene. He was carrying a big, brown, shoe box. Normally villages have nice, black boxes, but this is all the village could afford. Mr. Gravestone followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the stage and Mr. Winters set the shoe box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool, since the mayor thought it would be funny to tell them if you get within 20 feet of it, you turn into lava. Mr. Winters stirred up the papers inside it. "It's time for the reaping of the 74th annual Hunger Games!" Mr. Winters started. One of the men whispered in his ear. "Oh! I mean, it's time for the lottery! The lottery, yes! Ha-ha…". The night before the lottery, Mr. Winters and Mr. Gravestone made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Gravestone's man cave, and locked up until Mr. Winters was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. And sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there, that's the year we lost it, because one of the women accidently bought it and then moved out of town. Don't ask why we though putting it in the grocery was a good idea… or why we call it a grocery, and not a grocery store.

There was a great deal of fussing done before Mr. Winters declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up: heads of families, heads of households in each family, members of each household in each family. All just so we can have a box full of papers with one that has a black dot on them. A lot had been lost from the original lottery. Some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, some type of Witch spells performed by the official of the lottery. Some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand still when he drew the names, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people and squirt water onto their pants so it looked like they peed, causing them embarrassment, but years and years ago this part of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There was also a pledge you were supposed to say before they started the lottery,

_I pledge allegiance, to the lottery,_

_And the sacred feathers that go along with all this stuff._

_And to keeping this a secret,_

_And not mentioning what you win,_

_So the reader feels clueless the whole story._

However, this also had changed with time.

"Please welcome, our ever-giving mayor!" Said Mr. Winters. The mayor stood up and slowly walked to the box. It was silent. "CLAP!" Mr. Winters screamed. The village roared with applause. People cheering and screaming. One man even started kissing the mayors feet.

"Now, I'll read the names, heads of families first, and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?"

"I have a question!" One of the old men in the back yelled, right before he was shot in the head.

"Alright! Then we'll get started!" Mr. Winters announced. "Montgomery… Dunbar… Tazi… Mohamed… Wong… Torres… Maes…" After he finished calling all the names, which all happened to have different cultural origins, they all one by one open up their papers… no dot… not dot… no dot… no dot… duck… duck… duck… no dot… DOT!

"It's de Hutchinsons!" The village drunk yells out. Everyone gasps. The mother, Tessa, grabbed her son Tiny Tim and her daughter Lashanika, and they walked up and met the father, Bill Hutchinson. The all stood in a straight line.

"It's not fair!" Tessa was yelling. Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Shut up Tessa!" Bill said, right before smacking her. She quieted down and they all picked another paper out of the shoebox. It would probably be a lot easier, and a lot quicker just to pull one person's name out of a hat full of the names of everyone in the village, and they would win, but we need a conflict in the story, and the story needs to be more than three pages to pass the short story class I'm writing for… so ya…, so we're doing it this way. The children open their sheets of paper first.

"Nothing!" Tiny Tim yells. The crowd sighs in relief.

"Bahhh Humbug!" One of the old villagers yelled. Next was Lashanika. She opened up her paper.

"Oh my god! There's gum in it!" Lashanika yelled. There was a collective 'ew' from the crowd.

"Sorry!" The mayor shouts. After being forced to rip the gum off, Lashanika revealed her paper was blank. Only Bill and Tessa left.

"No! It's not fair!" Tessa keeps yelling, "I never turned off the oven at home!" After getting slapped in the face by Bill, it was time to open the papers. Bill opens his… (Pause for dramatic effect here)… it was blank.

"It's Tessa! She's got it!" Someone yelled.

"No… please… It's not fair! It's not right!" She yells.

"Let's get this done quickly men!" The mayor yells, "Oh yes, women too! God forbid we get sued by the woman's rights association again!" He looks at one of the women in the crowd. She nods. Three men grab Tessa and pick her up.

"No! No! No! Please, don't! It's not fair! Hey! Don't be fresh! Stop! No!" She cried. The men tied her up onto a giant rock. "No!" She kept yelling, no one hesitated. They took out their feathers.

"Tickle tickle!" Sally Goldwin said in a deep voice. Someone lifted Tessa's shirt above her belly.

"No… haha! Stop it! Haha! Stop!" Then they were upon her.


End file.
